


The Bathroom Stall of the Musain 32

by jehanjetaime



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Barebacking, Comfort Sex, Dirty Talk, Facials, Kinda, M/M, Oral Sex, Penetration, Porn With Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Grantaire, Trans Male Character, filthy sex, like for real Combeferre is just NASTY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 20:25:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10726578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehanjetaime/pseuds/jehanjetaime
Summary: Some jerk makes Grantaire feel bad while out clubbing.Combeferre makes him feel better.





	The Bathroom Stall of the Musain 32

The knock from the bathroom door was all Grantaire needed to know that it was one of his friends searching for him. But he didn't want to talk to any of them. So he just tucked his feet up on the toilet seat and folded his arms on his knees. 

_"Fuckin' ugly bitch! No on wants to dance with you!"_ The words echoed in his find, and the memory of the shove lived on his chest. _The guy had laughed then, drunk and wild. "Hey, you were up on the table earlier! I remember you, shaking that fat ass like anyone wanted to see it! Why don't you come over here, I know someone who likes fat chicks!" Grantaire had just stood there, watching in awe, surprise, and hurt as the guy turned to look through the crowd. "Hey! Hey! Come here - I got another uggo to add to your list, dude!"_

_Grantaire stepped backwards, but the guy reached for him. "C'mon, baby - bet you ain't been fucked real good before - bet you're used to doggy style though! Gotta be with a face like that!"_

_There had been laughter surrounding him, and then all of a sudden a thin, tall form whizzed past him. Courfeyrac's bony fist struck the guy in the face, his voice loud and angry as he told the man to 'stop saying that shit!'_

What happened after that, Grantaire didn't know. He had been overwhelmed with the eyes on him and pushed past Enjolras, who was trying to reach him, to run into the crowd. Head filled with shouting and face burning with shame, he had ran into the mens room of the Musain 32 (their usual night club), and locked himself into one of the small stalls. He knew he was fat. He knew he was ugly. He knew that he didn't pass. The first fact didn't bother him (in fact, he liked his chub), the second one he could live with, and the third wouldn't be forever.

But he did not need to be barraged with shouts and misgendered in front of the entire club, including his friends. Grantaire had been having a good time, dancing with Joly, drinking with Bossuet and Feuilly, and accepting a dare from Bahorel to dance on one of the tables in the back. It was a fun night with drinking music, and a lot of joking around.

Until that guy had gotten a look at him and ruined everything. Grantaire had no good emotions about himself as it was, but he had forgotten about how much he hated himself all night long; the angry reminder had jolted him so badly that he had been shocked into tears.

 _Knock-knock-knock._ "Grantaire?"

The bathroom door opened, and that deep voice spoke again, calm and warm - it sounded like homemade chicken soup tasted. Combeferre's heavy boots hit the bathroom floor as he spoke. "Grantaire, if you're in here, just let me know."

A knock on each stall door, until Combeferre's boots stopped in front of Grantaire's door.

"...I'm here," he muttered.

Combeferre sighed in what might have been relief. "Thank God, no one knew where you went and we were terrified." The door moved, and Grantaire thought that Combeferre had touched it. "I'm so sorry that guy was such an asshole to you. Courf told me what he said...none of that was nice, or good, or true..."

"Whatever," Grantaire said. "What happened?"

"Courf and the guy were tossed out. Someone's taking him home, the rest are looking for you. I'm going to text them that I found you, alright?"

"I don't want to see them. You can go," he said, knowing that it wouldn't work. "I'll call for a ride or something."

Grantaire was right. "That's not going to happen. I'll see if I can't send the rest home but I'm staying with you, buddy." There was a quiet tapping as Combeferre did just that; hopefully they all listened. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what? That everyone just thinks I'm an ugly girl? That I was ugly enough for a guy with a reputation of fucking ugly girls? That I can't even go out and have a good time without being harassed?" His voice was thick and Grantaire knew it was clear that he was crying.

"He was drunk and being a dick," Combeferre said. "You're not ugly and you're not a girl; that guy clearly lives in a world of nothing but social constructs. I happen to think you're very handsome."

"Okay," Grantaire said. He sniffled and wiped his face with his hand; the sleeve came back soaked. "I d-don't feel it though. Ever. Especially not...not n-now."

There was quiet. 

"R, can I come in?"

Grantaire didn't know what he wanted. But he did lean forward and unlock the door. Combeferre stepped in and struggled to turn and lock the door behind him. They were both large men, and the stall was cramped. But Grantaire just looked up at Combeferre with water eyes. "This a good place for a chat, then?"

Combeferre bent at the waist as much as he could and cupped Grantaire's face with his large hands. That was the first thing to notice about Combeferre, his largeness- he was almost 2 meters tall, heavy set, with a thick nose, thick eyebrows, thick glasses, and long, heavy dreadlocks that fell down his back.

"Grantaire, do you truly think you're ugly?" he asked, voice soft, eyes gentle.

With a sigh, Grantaire closed his eyes and nodded.

"Bullshit," Combeferre said. "That's bullshit. Ugly? I don't see anything ugly here." Then Grantaire felt warm lips over his bushy brows. "Or here." And another on his nose."Or here, or here." Cheek, cheek. "There's nothing ugly anywhere on this face."

Grantaire didn't know what to do with those words, those actions. He knew that Combeferre was an affectionate man, a physical man, and that he had slept with at least three of their friends. It wasn't anything that anyone seemed upset over - that was just Combeferre. But Grantaire hadn't expected those lips to touch him. He opened his eyes and looked Combeferre in the face. "Then you're not looking at me, 'Ferre. I...I don't pass, I'm ugly as shit, no one even wants to look at me...I feel like an idiot for even leaving my house tonight. I just want to...stop. Everything. All of those things that guy said to me are things I've heard over and over again from my own brain."

"I know you don't like yourself," Combeferre said. "But that doesn't mean your brain is right, or that man is right. I told you I think you're handsome and I won't take it back. You have gorgeous skin...that hair...your strong nose, your full lips...your deft hands. Come here."

He pulled Grantaire forward, and there was no choice but to fall into his arms. "He's an idiot. You are no less of a man for your body, which is beautiful, and you're worth more than a joke fuck from an asshole like his friend."

"I'm not worth anyone fucking me," Grantaire said, wrapping his arms around Combeferre, hands resting on his shoulder blades. "If I was, I would have had sex in the past five years. A-and it's not for lack of going out on dates and stuff. When people get to know me or even look at me much...it's not going to happen.

"I wish I could blame it on being trans, but Jehan has a different partner ever weekend and we hang out at the same places. So if it's not that, then...I'm just not worth it, am I?"

Combeferre turned his face to Grantaire, lips almost against his ear. "This truly bothers you, doesn't it?"

"I'm not the type of guy who enjoys going five years without being touched," he admitted. "To some people that sounds perfect but not me. It makes ME feel like shit, like I'm disgusting, and hideous, especially when everyone around me seems to be getting laid ALL the TI-"

He was silenced with a kiss. It was rough and forceful but not in any of the bad ways. Grantaire hadn't been kissed - or even touched past a pat on the back or a handshake - in so long that his body was ready to surrender immediately. He kissed back, clutched at Combeferre in a way so needy that it was embarrassing.

But Combeferre only stopped to ask, "This okay?"

"More than okay," Grantaire responded, before starting the kiss anew. He was too desperate for the attention to deny the idea of a pity kiss - and this was Combeferre. Just Combeferre, who was one of his closest friends. This couldn't be pity.

And dash it all if it was. He willingly accepted Combeferre's pierced tongue in his mouth. The kiss stopped for just a moment as Combeferre pulled him to his feet. Then he was whipped around and pressed to the door, Combeferre's mouth on his again. Grantaire pulled him close, hands grasping at his jacket, just wanting more, harder, hotter. So that was what he said.

"I want more of you," he said, "C-Combeferre, please..."

"I want you too, darling," Combeferre growled into his mouth. He rutted his hips against Grantaire in a way that made him shudder. "Tell me what you want and I'll make it happen..."

"F-fuck me," Grantaire said. Maybe this was crazy, but he didn't care. "F-fuck me right here...r-right now...I want you inside of me right now..."

Combeferre licked his way up Grantaire's neck, that warm tongue almost too much for Grantaire to handle. "I don't have anything..."

"I don't want anything...I'm clean, you know I am..." Grantaire nipped at his ear. "We can go back to my place if you're more comfortable with it, but - "

"Fuck it." They were all tested every few months, since no one in that particular group was going to preach something to the public they didn't themselves do. "M-me too, clean..."

At that, Grantaire wasted no time in pulling at Combeferre's jacket, wanting as much clothing off of him as possible. Anyone who walked in here would know immediately what they were doing, and Grantaire loved that. Let everyone know that this handsome,unbelievably desirable man wanted him, enough to not be able to wait to even leave the bathroom stall.

"Where can I touch you?" Combeferre asked, pushing his hands under Grantaire's shirt, but not rising up his body.

Those touches were like fire. "Anywhere...please, anywhere, e-everywhere..."

His shirt was promptly dumped on the floor, joined by Combeferre's. Grantaire ran his hands over that chest and stomach - soft skin, tattoos, just enough hair to grab, pierced nipples. "God, you're so fucking hot."

"No, my dear - you take that prize." His large hands ran over Grantaire's skin, inching my inch up to the bottom of his binder. "Sh-shouldn't wear this while we do this...not your sports one.."

Had Grantaire imagined this, he would have imagined that he wanted to keep the binder on - especially after what had brought all of this on. But no, he wanted Combeferre's hands on every single part of his body. Plus, his nipples were very sensitive, and he was dying to get that warm mouth on them. So he struggled to get the damned thing off and dropped it on the floor.

If he was feeling self-conscious at all, that pleased growl from Combeferre was all he needed to get over it. First fingers, then lips, then tongue, then teeth - oh _God_ the teeth - ran over his nipples, across his sternum, up and down from his collarbone. They left him nearly a quivering mess, mouth open, hand clutching one of Ferre's dreads tightly. Combeferre had an arm looped around him, holding him up.

Then Combeferre dropped to his knees and Grantaire was left without that support when he really needed it. "Here?" Combeferre asked, kissing the fly of Grantaire's jeans. Grantaire just nodded, leaning against the door. "Be vocal for me, darling. Tell me what you like and don't like."

"Y-yes! God yes, there..." Grantaire's knees went week as Combeferre ran his hands along his calves, then up those thick thighs. He laughed a little as Ferre's hands gripped his ass, just because it tickled. Combeferre's chuckle was dark and heavy with Grantaire might even call lust. His behind was a source of struggle for him, the size and shape far too feminine; with Combeferre grabbing it like the last life boat off of the Titanic, Grantaire felt a little better about it.

 _You don't need affirmation from a man to feel good about your body!_ Chetta's voice said in the back of his mind. He knew that. He understood that.

But God, when he felt as good as Combeferre was making him feel, he didn't care.

Combeferre's fingers left his rear to expertly undo the fly on his jeans. He wasn't wearing a packer that night, knowing that when he was dancing it could get dislodged and, from experience, punched in the face by a woman who thought he was being a pervert. His jeans were pulled down just enough for Combeferre's purposes, which was one thing only - to press his mouth against that v in Grantaire's boxer briefs, chin against scarred, chubby thighs.

Grantaire's moan echoed against the bathroom tiles, the sound surrounding them in a most satisfying way. Combeferre squeezed his thigh. "And I've hardly done anything to you yet.

"I'll get you screaming before the night is over."

The kisses, the warmth, the pressure, continued until Grantaire's fingers curled in Combeferre's hair. He heaved to wait and pulled one leg out of his jeans. Then, out of his boxers. Grantaire hadn't been so exposed to anyone in such a long time, and it gave him a little pause. 

"Can I put this up here?" Combeferre asked, pulling Grantaire's knee up to rest on his shoulder. "I'm so ready for that cock."

Then it was off of pause and onto fast-forward. Grantaire flung one hand behind him, grabbing the door above his head, fingers curled over the top. Combeferre's double pierced tongue prodded at him until it was pressed flat against his taut cock, and Grantaire's sounds became completely out of his control. That heat, that wetness, with the sharp contrast of the barbed rubber spikes of Combeferre's piercings...it was a pleasure that Grantaire didn't think he would ever get again. He was trembling, aching, slick, and Combeferre was merciless with that tongue of his.

"Lower," he groaned, without even thinking about it. "Lower, Ferre, please..."

That tongue was dragged down to his entrance. "Here?" Combeferre asked, on his knees, head tilted up between Grantaire's thighs. "Do you like it when I touch you here?"

"Y-yes," Grantaire was hardly able to say before that tongue was on him again, against him, inside of him, back again. 

Outside of the stall, someone came in. Despite wanting everyone to know, Grantaire froze; Combeferre did not. He kept probing, licking, stroking, drawing gaps and whines from Grantaire. The person outside quickly left the bathroom, and Grantaire's laugh turned into a long groan.

He caressed the back of Combeferre's head, heal digging into his back. "Fuck," he whined, bottom lip captured between his teeth. "Combeferre...!"

The force of his tongue doubled.

"E-enough," Grantaire forced himself to say, voice raw and strained. "I w-want you inside of me, Combeferre, please...fuck me, fuck me until I can't stand, I want you..."

Combeferre pulled away, stood, pressed his body to Grantaire's. There was a very sizable bulge pressing against Grantaire, and he kissed Combeferre's jawline. He trailed a hand over Combeferre's chest, gently pulling at those nipple rings, before dropping his hand to the waistband of his pants. "Can I?"

"Anything you want," Combeferre said. "I want you so fucking badly, Grantaire, but only if you're sure. We don't have any lube so we really..."

Grantaire undid Combeferre's fly and freed his cock - hard, veiny, huge - and groaned. "We're both clean," he reminded Combeferre, stroking that beautiful cock in his hand. "And there's nothing to worry about with anything else, you know that...but if you don't to, it's up to you..."

Due to an illness he didn't lie to think about, surgery had rendered certain parts of his body useless. Which, honestly, had turned out for the best. But he didn't want to think about any of that. He just wanted to think about that thick cock in his hand. That cock that he wanted inside of him so badly. Combeferre thrusted against his hand, pushing those hips forward. "I want you, I want to be inside of you, Grantaire."

"Then fucking take me."

Combeferre pressed him to the door again, and urged Grantaire's leg up, to hook it around his hip. Grantaire kept a hand around that fat cock and pressed the head - also pierced, God BLESS all of these piercings - against him.

"You like that?" Combeferre panted, looping an arm around Grantaire's waist. Grantaire pressed him even closer, until slick skin met slick skin. "You like my cock on yours, babe? You like feeling my cock pressed against yours?"

"God yes," Grantaire moaned, rubbing Ferre's head against his own straining cock. "Are you ready to fuck me, Combeferre?"

"I am so ready. I'm ready to fuck you hard and deep, Grantaire - I'm going to fill you up with this huge cock and make you come. I'm going to stretch you wide open until you come all over my cock." Combeferre's voice was almost dangerous. Those words coming from the mouth of such a mellow man were driving him crazy - who knew Combeferre _talked_ that way?

Grantaire kissed him roughly as he guided that thick erection to his opening. "Oh fuck," he called out as the head pressed against him, then slowly pushed into him. Grantaire let go of Combeferre;s cock as it slid into him; the moment his hand was free, he wrapped both arms around Combeferre's broad shoulders. "All the way," he nearly begged, already feeling full to capacity and wanting more. "D-deep as you can go!"

There was no waiting. Combeferre pushed his full length into Grantaire, making the other press the back of his head against the door. "I n-needed this..." Grantaire whined as he ground on the hardness, getting used to the girth. "Holy _shit_ I needed this, I nee...needed you!"

"You're amazing...j-just amazing...you feel so fucking good stretched around me, Grantaire, holy fuck, you're going to make me come in no time..." Combeferre picked up speed, pounding into Grantaire and shaking their stall. If someone came in again, Grantaire was too lost to know.

"C-come hard," Grantaire said, "Come hard, m-make a mess of me, I want to be a fucking disaster area...!"

He dug his nails into Combeferre's back, the only part of his touching the ground his right toes as Combeferre drove into him, driving him crazy, pushing him to his limit.

Then Combeferre dropped a hand below Grantaire's stomach and sought out his cock. The pad of his thumb found Grantaire's hardness and pressed circles against it. That was when Grantaire knew he was done for. "G-gonna come," he warned, moving his hips in time with Combeferre's rough thrusts. "Gonna come, Ferre, you're gonna make me - !"

His orgasm came upon him quickly, a wave crashing over the shore. He shouted out as Combeferre fucked him, held him, caressed him through the orgasm, which took over his entire body. Grantaire's voice was loud, his legs trembling, his toes curling, every single muscle tensing tensing _tensing_ then releasing, the ultimate in relief as the pleasure ebbed and flowed.

Those few seconds had felt like a blissful eternity.

His body relaxed but he held onto Combeferre as the other man moved inside of him, the sensitivity of his recent orgasm almost too much. It was almost painful, in the most pleasurable way imaginable. 

"Y-you're so sexy," Combeferre said, trembling against Grantaire. "I'm...I'm close to, how do you wa...want me?"

It was no question for Grantaire. He urged Combeferre to pull out of him and dropped quickly to his knees. Not only did he want a look at that beautiful cock, but it was a relief to be almost sitting. Grantaire wrapped his hand around Combeferre's cock and opened his mouth,sitting just in front of Combeferre, lips still an inch or two away.

When Combeferre came, looking down at Grantaire, muscular arms bracing himself against the bathroom door, it was heavy, messy, thick, and all over Grantaire's face. Grantaire stroked him until completion, then kissed the head of his cock before falling back to sit on the pile of their shirts.

Combeferre leaned his forehead against the stall door. They were both just catching their breath, the bathroom now suddenly quiet. Grantaire wanted to hold onto him,and forced himself back to his feet. He wrapped his arms around Combeferre; the motion was reciprocated as they fell into each others arms and leaned into the corner of the stall.

"I made a mess of you," Combeferre whispered, voice much different than it had been 10 minutes ago.

"I asked you to," Grantaire reminded him. 

His face was still a mess, and Combeferre made him laugh by reaching into his pocket - holy shit, Combeferre hadn't even taken his pants all the way off - and pulling out some Wet Wipes. The gentle way Ferre cleaned his cheeks and lips made him feel a bit like crying.

"Come home with me," Grantaire said. "I want you in my bed tonight."

"I was hoping you would say that." Combeferre kissed the corner of his mouth. There was nothing awkward about this. Grantaire wasn't suddenly in love with Combeferre. Well. Maybe a little bit.He wasn't a weeping, grateful mess (though he _was_ very grateful). And this did not feel like something that would hang between them. Combeferre was his friend, one who he had shared something amazing with. Something that had given him relief. Something that had been warm and honest and pure. Combeferre, someone who was unbelievable, holding him tightly as if no one else was in the room. Those lips found their way to Grantaire's ear one more time.

"I'll have plans for you in the morning. You're amazing in a bathroom stall - I'll bet the things you do in a bed can kill a man."

This time, it was Grantaire's laughter echoing around the bathroom. "I guess you'll have to find out."

**Author's Note:**

> Always use a condom, folks.


End file.
